THE first thing that Gordet did on re turning from his prospecting expedition was to purchase two more sled dogs and a fine sled. One of these dogs was an old grizzled veteran of the Husky order, named Wolf. The other was an ordinary Husky named Snowball, as he was white as snow. Because of his experience Wolf was given the lead position and upon him fell the great responsibility for the team, so far as dog responsibility could go. Wolf assumed the position as a matter of course and straightway began ruling his teammates with ready and gleaming fangs. Silversheene who was very high spirited himself resented this, but he soon discovered that Gene backed up Wolf with his long cutting whip so he accepted his leadership with as good grace as he could.
When the team was finally harnessed up Wolf was in the lead with Billy next to him. Then Snowball was placed as wheel dog and Ginger, Whirlwind, and Silversheene in between them. Silversheene was very glad Gene did not place him next to Wolf, for that savage Husky well bore out his name and he punished poor Billy mercilessly whenever he transgressed any of the laws of the team.
Billy of course was green so he often transgressed and suffered accordingly. Gene trained them in an open field back of the hotel and in half a day had them partly broken.
At the crack of the whip Wolf led off and woe betide Billy if he did not follow his lead. They first learned that "mush" meant to go forward. As this was their natural impulse it was readily learned. They were taught gee and haw which came harder. But at the word and the crack of the whip Wolf would swing to the right or left, while Snowball would swing his end of the team in the right direction so they got along very well. If the dog ahead of Snowball got out of his traces, that old Husky was at once snapping at him and barking for him to get back, while Wolf saw that none of the dogs near him got out of the traces.
Running about with the empty sled was soon mastered and it was great fun, but when Gene piled on a heavy load and started to draw it from the wharves to a storehouse that was quite different. Then it was that the long black lash sung and cracked about their ears and each dog had to dig for all he was worth. If a dog sulked or lay down in the harness he soon had both the two indignant Huskies and Gene's whiplash to reckon with. It was strange how soon even the civilized dog began to like this work in the harness.
It was not so much work as it was a great play. A strange game in which each sought to outdo his fellow. Finally when they were fully trained their greatest joy was to stand ready for the harness and their greatest ambition to aspire for Wolf's position at the head of the team.
Of course there were some dogs who were without ambition, just as there are men, but if a dog had any spirit he was always looking to promotion to the lead position.
Silversheene took to the snow like a duck to water. His forbears had revelled in it for untold ages so he came back to his own with great zest. He also surprised Gordet with the quick way in which he mastered the harness, but that also was a part of his inheritance, for one of his immediate ancestors had drawn Peary to the pole, while others had drawn heavily loaded sleds over the icefloes and the snowdrifts of the frozen arctic from time immemorial.
Silversheene had some trouble with the snow which gathered between his toes as he travelled and made him fvotsore, but he soon learned to lie upon his back and gnaw the frozen snow from between his toes each night. This was a trick that he learned from old Wolf. To tell the truth he was always watching this grizzled veteran from out of the corner of his eye. Although he hated him because of his severity, yet he admired him and knew that he was very wise in the ways of arctic waste.
The team was fed once a day at night. The feed was always the same. One pound of dried salmon. It was Wolf's place to see that the dogs did not get to fighting over this evening meal, and he was seconded in this watchfulness by Gene's whip.
In the civilized world where Silversheene had been reared there was certain honor among dogs, but he soon learned that it was different here. The stronger dog always stole from the weaker if he could. The only right here in this cold desolate land was the right of might. Old Wolf himself, although he was supposed to set an example, often stole from Billy and the rest of the southland dogs if he could when Gene was not looking.
Finally the real work for the team began and they were all glad, although it was desperately hard work. Work that taxed their endurance to the utmost and often found them footsore and lame at the end of the day's run. But in the morning each dog was sure to be ready, eager and trembling to have his harness again put on.
Gene had a contract to carry the mail and some light express between two Yukon towns five hundrd miles apart. He also made out a load with tea, coffee, and tobacco, for several trading posts along the way. As the price of transportation for these articles was several times the original cost in the States, the business was good. They started each morning at about seven, and kept up the steady pace for eight or ten hours, only stopping at noon to rest while Gene ate his lunch, and the dogs looked on with hungry eyes and dripping jaws.
Nor was the team the only part of the outfit that worked, for Gene himself ran the thirty or forty miles with his hand resting lightly on the "gee" pole, or even went ahead and broke track for the team when the going was bad.
Few men in the Yukon were better drivers, or could cover more miles in a day than Gene Gordet. He was six feet two inches in his stockings and weighed one hundred and ninety pounds. His muscles were like whipcords and his nerves like steel. He had wind like a moose and could run for hours behind the sled without fatigue.
His favorite stunt was to come into some snowbound Yukon trading post after a day's run of forty or fifty miles, and after bolting his supper and hot coffee, to join himself with the revellers in some dance hall and then dance all night, and even a part of the next day.
He never pushed his dog team beyond the day's work that he himself was willing to do. He was not a hard master as drivers went in the Yukon, but he would not stand for any fooling in the traces. He often had to discard dogs from his team and find others of better stuff.
Gene drove his dog team just as he did himself. They must go the limit. His word was law. The slightest motion of his hand or whip called for immediate obedience. If it was not forthcoming, that black lash, which was more accurate than any bullet on the Yukon, went singing to the mark.
Gene rarely petted his dogs, as he said it spoiled them for the trail. Yet he made an exception of Silversheene, who was such a beauty that he could not keep his hands off from him. But Gene soon saw that this made the other dogs jealous, so he did his petting on the sly.
Each day on the trail was as much like the day before as routine could make it, although the conditions under which they travelled were always different. Some days the going was good, while others it was very hard. Sometimes it was upon the smooth ice of the Yukon, while at other times they would flounder for hours through drifts. But the mode of procedure each day was the same.
Each morning the dogs came scrambling out of their snow beds at the first sound from their master and shook the snow from their long coats, and licked their feet until they were perfectly clean. Any cuts or bruises were also attended to.
They came as close to the morning campfire as they could and not disturb Gene's effort at getting breakfast. This also gave them a chance to get thawed out after the long night in the snow and to stretch their legs. They watched with expectant faces while their master ate. But when he got out the harnesses and laid them in a long row in front of the sled, each dog was usually in his place. If any lingered old Wolf was upon him and he was punished well for his tardiness. Then Gene harnessed them with care and saw that everything was shipshape before the start. The load often had to be relashed to the sled if it had got to slipping. When everything was in readiness there came the clear call to mush and the sharp crack of the whip like the report of the rifle. The team sprang gladly into the traces and they were off for the long day's run.
It was through a lonely waste that they travelled. Usually their own last trail was the only track they saw. They heard few sounds save the howling of the wind and the creaking of the snow. If they did happen to hear the howl of the great white arctic wolf at night, the silence that followed was still more appalling. If the blue fox did puncture the silence with his sharp staccato bark, the stillness afterwards was still more pronounced. Often the arctic owl vied with the howling wind to make the night fearsome, but neither man nor dog heard the sounds, for they were sleeping the sleep of exhaustion.
Each noon Gene allowed himself half an hour to eat his lunch and the dogs that time to rest, but they were not unharnessed. In the middle of the afternoon the pace would slow down and some of the dogs would perhaps lag a little, but at Gene's cheery call to mush and at the crack of the whip they would spring into the harnesses again and go forward at a steady pace. But when the empty stomachs between their gaunt sides told them that the day's run was nearly over old Wolf would occasionally look over his shoulder at Gene to see if there were any signs of stopping. Then Gordet would begin looking for a likely place to camp. It must be sheltered if possible. That was about all they could expect. Finally he would select the place and the team would lie down in the snow to rest, their tongues often lolling out. Finally when the man had made up his mind he would drive the sled under the lee of the boulder or ledge, or perhaps into a deep thicket, and the dogs experienced the great luxury of having their harnesses taken off.
Soon the bright campfire would be blazing and the dogs crowding about it. But before he had even put on his coffee Gene would get out the ration of dried fish and throw each dog his piece. When the team had been fed he got out the frying pan and put bacon into it. He would also put on the coffeepot and get out some hard biscuits. In a very few minutes he would be eating his own supper while the dogs watched him at a respectful distance. Again each dog would inspect his feet and gnaw the snow from between his toes and lick the cuts and bruises before retiring. Then one by one they would disappear under the soft snow, each curling up into a round ball and putting his nose in his bushy tail to keep it from freezing during the night.
When the last dog had disappeared Gene himself would stretch his muscles, and rake down his campfire so as to keep it until morning if possible. Then he would get out his rabbit-skin sleeping-bag and himself lie down upon some pine boughs that, if he was lucky, he had been able to cut, but if not, he lay in the snow, for he was as hardy as the dog team. In less than a minute he would be sleeping more soundly than any of the luxury-cradled men of the States upon their beds of ease. Both team and man had earned their sleep, and nature, which often makes up in one way what she takes away in another, gave them sweet sleep and pleasant dreams, even in the frozen arctic under the blinking stars and the gorgeous aurora which painted the sky and the snow a dozen times a minute with a new hue. So they would sleep while the arctic hours slipped noiselessly by and the God of nature would watch over them.